Sirius' Holiday
by PaperMoonsandWolfstar
Summary: In the August of 1977, Sirius Black went on holiday with the Potters.


In the August of 1977, Sirius Black went in holiday with the Potters.

Their flight was at seven in the morning, but Mrs. Potter insisted on arriving there at three. Which naturally meant she was dealing with a hyperactive Sirius, who had recently discovered energy drink, and a groggy, moody James.

By the time they actually got on the flight, she was thoroughly annoyed. They settled into their seats, Mr. Potter on the far left, Sirius on the far right, and Mrs. Potter and James in the Middle, James next to Sirius naturally.

Sirius had began to calm down, much to her relief, after spending four hours dealing with a fifteen year old boy high in caffeine and freedom. He'd come to their house at the end of July, slightly disheartened after the fortnight spent with his family, but James had soon cheered him up.

He'd stayed up all night, if the constant bangs and hearty, muffled laughter were anything to go by, and she could tell that James had crashed around midnight.

She watched Sirius catch a bead of sweat from his upper lip with a flick of his tongue, and frowned, concerned, because the plane was rather cool.

He was dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans and trainers, and a huge, worn grey jersey with long sleeves.

Contrastingly, James was adorned in tan shorts and a green polo shirt, much like everyone else on the plane, and Sirius looked rather out of place.

Their flight was eight hours long, and she watched as Sirius became increasingly tired and James became annoyingly hyper after his short nap after takeoff.

Sirius was currently slumped in his seat, tiredly nibbling on a bread roll and ignoring James who was repeatedly poking him and giggling madly.

She examined his worn face, youthful, but his silver eyes seemed sunken with the dark circles engulfing them. His skin was ghastly pale, but it had been since the first time she saw him at the station in James' first year, and his hair was unkempt and matted with sweat.

His eyes rolled back in his head at that point, and his entire body convulsed a little bit, before it went limp and he collapsed on the mini table in front of him.

She made to lean forward, incredibly concerned, but James stopped her with a gentle, restraining hand.

"It's fine mum. He just passes out sometimes when he's really tired." he murmured, and the quiet reservation in his tone made her sink back into the uncomfortable, leather seat and ponder just how used to antics like this James was.

"Sirius! We're here, wake up!"

James' roar immediately awakened Sirius, and he started, yanking himself up, and grumbled in protest.

They got through security and collected their luggage relatively quickly, and the hotel was only a fifteen minute bus ride away.

Arriving halted both boy's chatter as they turned to take in the hotel with awe.

Their bags were taken away by a hotel employee and they were taken down a marble staircase and into the softly lit plaza.

Candles were flickering in the slight sea breeze and crickets were chirping away in the trees surrounding the small area. Green lights illuminated the tiles in a gentle tinge, and melodic reggae music enveloped the place in serenity.

Mrs. Potter and James headed up to the room to pack away their things, but Sirius opted to stick with Mr. Potter as the balding man settled heavily into a wooden chair and pulled out a packet of crumpled cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one with ease with his heavy metal lighter.

With an amused glance he offered Sirius one, who gratefully took it, glad his longing stares had not gone unnoticed, and reclined in his chair, blowing out a long puff of smoke with a satisfied grin.

They sat smoking in silence, watching the candles flicker.

Sirius' hands were shaking as he put out the cigarette, and Mr. Potter noticed a hint of redness between his index and middle fingers where the embers had burned him.

"You alright son?" He asked, and when Sirius nodded, he put out his own cigarette and headed up to their room, Sirius in tow.

Mrs. Potter had needed some persuading, but eventually had reluctantly allowed James and Sirius to share a room.

When Sirius walked in, James was naked, standing in front of the mirror.

Sirius grimaced and threw a pillow at him, and James grinned, unabashed, as he pulled on a pair of swimming trunks.

"Coming?" he asked, and noticed a slight flicker of worry pass over Sirius' grey eyes before he nodded unsurely and leant over his suitcase.

He pulled off his jeans first, which was quite the ordeal as they were extremely tight, but eventually managed it and gave a sigh of contentment at the rush of cool air.

He pulled on a pair of navy swimming trunks and turned around, looking at James expectantly, who raised his eyebrows incredulously.

"You can't keep that on, it's like a million degrees out there!" He exclaimed, gesturing to the grey jersey Sirius still had on.

The glimmer of worry returned to Sirius' eyes, and he tugged on the hem of his jersey unsurely.

James was thoroughly confused. He'd never seen his best mate like this before, stripped of all his arrogance and cheeky smirk. Instead, Sirius just looked worried and uncomfortable, refusing to meet James' eyes and instead settling on a speck of dust on the tiled floor.

Five minutes into the awkward silence, James groaned defeatedly.

"Fine, keep it on, but you are getting in the goddamn pool."

Fifteen minutes later, the two teenagers had managed to irritate everyone in or around the pool. They had started off by cannon balling into it, splashing everyone who was sunbathing, and then managed to sneakily nick a kid's bucket, which started a huge waterfight. After some wailing from said kid and a furious looking father, they included him, much to his delight, into the game, finding him somewhat reminiscent of Peter. After they'd got bored of that, they gave the bucket back and were now racing each other to the end of the pool and back underwater.

James won every time, since Sirius was hindered by the heavy wet weight of his jersey, but he put up a good fight. He was now sat at the pools edge, panting heavily through his grin, and James was floating on his back somewhere near him.

Noticing the black looks they were getting, James suggested they go and get a drink, which Sirius eagerly agreed to.

They heaved themselves up, soaked to the bone and dripping water absolutely everywhere, and headed for the bar.

Much to his glee, Sirius soon realised that the bartender would serve him alcohol.

He'd ordered something called a beer as a joke, and when it was presented to him, he picked up the slight tinge of alcohol in its contents. He shared the news with James in the middle of downing it, spraying foam all over his grinning best friend.

They quickly turned this new discovery to their advantage, having Sirius order six of the things, and immediately had a competition to see who could down three the fastest.

Sirius won by an entire beer, much to James' disgruntlement, and began to cheer, doing ridiculous dances around a gasping James.

The people who had gathered to witness this were laughing along with him, and James soon felt a grin curving his own mouth up, joining in like the good sport he was.

After this, they eagerly poured over the cocktail menu, trying to guess which one was the strongest.

"Bloody hell, it's like reading a foreign language!" Sirius murmured, and James nodded his agreement.

They settled on something called a rum punch, since that was the only thing they had the slightest idea of the contents, and Sirius ordered four, claiming it was for the rest of their family.

James and Sirius took them outside, to the same table Sirius and Mr. Potter had smoked at earlier, and took gulps of it, three or four at once.

They soon finished off the drinks, and Sirius grinned as a hazy buzz took over him.

James was smirking lopsidedly, trying to say something to Sirius, but his words were slurring together.

Sirius began to roar with laughter at the ridiculousness of it all, and James joined in, laughing to the point where they were collapsed against the cool glass of the table, tears dripping down their faces.

Sirius caught a glimpse of Mrs. Potter making her way downstairs then, and with a murmured "shit" informed James, who leapt up immediately.

They managed to stagger off just in time, gripping onto each other and occasionally slipping on the sopping wet floor.

They carried on stumbling for a while, until they reached the hot white sand of the beach, and gratefully collapsed down.

The palm tree overhead thankfully provided them with some coverage, and they lay there, panting and giggling at the same time.

They got some odd looks from passers-by, but they didn't care, not in the least.

It took a few hours of staring at the sky, and some heavy vomiting on James' part, to sober up enough to think rationally.

Sirius was itching for a cigarette, and he shot James a lazy grin, somehow managing to get on his feet.

James chose to stay on the floor, so Sirius headed up to their room alone.

Mrs. Potter had presented him with three hundred Bajan dollars before they departed, the same amount she had entrusted James with.

She'd ignored his protests and insisted to the point where he couldn't refuse.

The money was intended for souvenirs and things like that, but after Remus and Peter, there was no one else he wanted to buy for.

So he took thirty dollars out of his pile in the safe, and headed out of the room.

"Excuse me, is there anywhere I can buy cigarettes?" Sirius asked a hotel employee politely.

"Oh yes, just go to the lobby and up the staircase, go right and follow the little line of shops. It's right at the end. If you get lost, just follow the signs for Asiagos." She informed him.

"Oh right, thanks." he nodded, and followed her instructions.

He ended up needing to follow the signs for "Asiagos", which was a restaurant, as it turned out.

He found the shop a few metres away and headed inside, squinting behind the counter.

He had no idea what brand of cigarettes to buy, so he settled on "Embassy" and handed over twenty dollars.

Clutching the packet, he headed downstairs once more.

The drunken fuzz was still invading his mind, so he collapsed down into one of the seats, and turned to the middle aged woman seated on the table over from him.

"Excuse me, could I borrow a lighter?" He asked slowly concentrating on not slurring his words.

She handed it over, and he lit a cigarette with it, tossing it deftly back over, and reclined back into his seat, gratefully taking a long drag and exhaling with a shaky sigh.


End file.
